What Might Have Been
by MabTheWinterQueen
Summary: In a world without gods, half-bloods, monsters, or any other supernatural things. Human!AU. Punk!Bookworm!Annabeth. Artsy!Preppy!Percy. Percabeth pre-romance.


**A/N: This is something old I had sitting on my computer. Consider this something to tide you over until I update _Of Gods and Men_ again. It's not my best work, but here it is.**

Annabeth Chase was having a rotten day.

She had run away from home. She was hungry. She was tired. And she was alone. Most of all, she was scared. There was no accounting for what was out here. Wolves, thieves, murderers, _spiders_. Oh, God, she really hoped she didn't find any spiders.

There was a rustling sound in the underbrush. She whirled around, hammer at the ready, and found herself face-to-face with a kid about her age. Which was, to say, seven. He had windswept black hair and sea-green eyes, and it was obvious that he would grow up to be gorgeous.

She backed away slowly. If she told this kid she'd run away, he would just take her back to her family. So she did what she thought was wise. She ran away.

 **xXx**

And Percy Jackson never saw her again. That is, until now.

What's so special about sixteen, he'll never know, but what he does know is that the new girl is the same scared seven-year-old with the hammer he had seen all those nine years ago. It doesn't matter that now she's wearing tattered black jeans, a Green Day shirt, combat boots, and a ripped leather jacket, showing off the tattoos all over her arms. She has multiple piercings, both in her face and in her ears, and her hair is shaved on one side and free-flowing on the other, but her eyes give her away.

The dark grey of storm clouds, her eyes are haunting, cold, and, above all, fierce, as though she's asking the world, _That all you got?_

"Ms. Chase," Mr. Hamilton glares over his glasses. "You're five minutes late."

She pops a bubble of deep black gum Percy didn't know they made. "Mr. Hamilton, it's my first day. Loosen up."

He stifles a gasp. No one talks to Hamilton like that unless they want a free detention.

"Detention, Ms. Chase."

Big surprise.

Ms. Chase just laughs. "And you think I'll attend… why?"

"I'll call your parents!"

She sits in the only empty seat (right next to Percy) and replies, "Ooh, I'm so scared!"

He ogles her as though she has come from the moon. Maybe she has. She sounds so sure of herself, strong, determined, angry at the world.

"Hey," he whispers to her. "Hey, Chase. What's your first name?"

"Annabeth," she replies.

"I'm Percy. What were you doing in the woods nine years ago? I've wanted to know since the day I saw you."

She tenses. "I was running away. Now drop it, Preppy."

"S-sorry," he stutters. _Rule number one; don't talk to Annabeth about nine years ago._

"I like that tattoo. The flame design, on your right arm? Who did it? It's amazingly intricate and very nicely done." He blushes. "Sorry. I'm an art geek."

She pops another bubble. "It's cool. I'm a reader."

He stares. "Really?"

"Yeah. And?"

"N-nothing. It's just kind of surprising. You know, with your punk look, and your 'I don't care what you think' attitude, I'd never guess that you like reading. I mean, reading's cool and all, but you just—"

"Hey," she hisses. "Do you want Hamilton to yell at you? I have a feeling you'd faint if you ever got a detention."

"Ms. Chase," Hamilton booms. "Anything you want to share with the class?"

"Yeah," she replies nonchalantly. "I think that you're extremely naïve to think that I'd actually go to detention, and your nose looks like it's been torn off an eagle and pasted to your face with a hot glue gun."

Percy has to stifle a laugh. No one's ever gone that far with Hamilton yet, even if they were all thinking it. Even then, it's hard to keep from laughing. Lizzy Benedict giggles.

Hamilton glares at the class. "It seems you like detentions, Ms. Chase. I'll see you there, I'm sure."

Annabeth gives a quiet, "Not on your life, buddy," and turns back to staring at her phone. It takes Percy a minute, but he soon realizes that she's reading an eBook.

"What're you reading?" he whispers.

"' _To Kill a Mockingbird_ '. I like it. It's cool. Got it?" She glares at him, and although it takes him a second, he is struck with the notion that she's scared. She wants to seem tough. She thinks he'll think badly of her because she likes _To Kill a Mockingbird_.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. It's one of my favorites too. I love how blissfully ignorant and innocent Scout is." Annabeth stares at him like he just told her he's come from a colony on Mars. Then she cracks a smile and punches him in the arm.

"You're okay, Percy. You're okay," she says, grinning, and he nearly passes out. That's the closest thing to a complement he's ever gotten from anyone who looks like his cousin Thalia did.

He doesn't even realize he's smiling.

"Hey, Preppy," she hisses, "knock it off, will you? You're starting to creep me out."

"S-sorry. You just look like a cousin of mine, Thalia. She died a couple of years back." He tries to wipe his face of any emotion that would look weird and succeeds only in getting an astonished-looking Annabeth whipping her head around to face him.

"Thalia? Thalia what?" she asks suspiciously.

"Thalia Grace. Why?"

"I-I knew her. She found me, when I ran away. I owe everything to her," she whispers.

"That's funny. She hated my guts. The only thing we had in common is that we were bastard children and our dads were brothers. They hated each other too, actually. And I'm still a bastard child."

"You too, huh? My mom left my dad shortly before I was born. Dad never really liked me. Remarried, had two kids, and his wife absolutely despised me." She pops a bubble. "But whatever. The past is in the past."

Percy nods his head. "My dad left my mom when she was still with child. My mom didn't deserve that. She should've been married to a millionaire, not _Gabe_."

"Who?"

"My ex-stepdad. He was nice for about the first two seconds I knew him. When I was little, I called him Smelly Gabe because he always smelled like moldy pizza and dirty gym shorts. He smoked. He drank a lot. He used most of our money to benefit his poker games. And he hit my mom. Regularly. Finally, she had enough and filed a divorce when I was twelve."

Annabeth looks sympathetic. "Yeah. Cassandra hates me. She thinks I'm the spawn of the devil and all that Christian shit. I don't really care. She's not my mother. She can't tell me what to do."

"Mm," he hums with sympathetic tone. "Yeah. Finally, my mom remarried Paul Blofis. It's a little weird having my English teacher as my stepdad, but if it makes my mom happy, I'm fine with it."

A slow, evil smile spreads across her face. The bell rings. "You're a mama's boy, aren't you?"

He splutters. "N-n-no! No, of course not!"

She laughs. "Whatever you need to tell yourself in order to sleep at night, Mama's Boy."

"No! No, I refuse to have that as my official nickname!"

"Fine. Seaweed Brain."

He looks at her. "Seaweed Brain? That's all you got, Wise Girl?"

"Yup. Your eyes look like the ocean, and you obviously like the sea, as is inferred from the wave designs all over your notebook," she smirks.

"Okay, I'm starting to think that Wise Girl is the only nickname that would fit you, Wise Girl," he pouts.

"Oh, God, what are you—not the seal eyes, anything but the—Perseus Jackson, I refuse to take it back."

"How did you know my full name?"

"You signed the picture that's in your notebook."

"How can you resist the seal eyes? Even Piper can't resist the seal eyes!"

"I'm not a wimp, that's how."

"You're a goddess in my eyes now." They've entered Mrs. Puckett's class.

"Well, my mom's name was Athena. No, I'm not kid—hey, are you laughing at me?"

Percy covers his mouth to stifle his laughter. "I'm not. My dad's name was Poseidon."

"Freaky, huh?"

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Well, according to Greek mythology, we should hate each other."

"Since when are you good at following directions?"

"Ooh, I like this side of you. Rebellious. You should let it out more often."

"Yeah, no. Personally, I like my perfect record and grades, so please try not to get me into trouble."

Mrs. Puckett clears her throat. "Mr. Jackson, is there anything you'd like to share with the class? Or must we assume that it was meant for Ms. Chase's ears only?"

"N-no, ma'am. Just telling her that I like the flame tattoo on her arm. Don't you think it's well done?" He tries for a smile. Mrs. Puckett is the art teacher, so hopefully she'll be distracted.

The plan works a little too well.

"It's marvelously done! Did you do that yourself, dear?"

"Um, no. A friend of mine who lives in New York did it for me. She's a really good artist. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if she went here. Piper McLean?"

"Yes, she does! I have to ask her about that!" Mrs. Puckett goes back to the board excitedly, and Percy turns back to Annabeth.

"Piper's my cousin Jason's girlfriend. He's Thalia's little brother, his mother gave him away to his stepmother, Uncle Zeus's wife, Hera, and he just recently appeared out of nowhere. Been living in Sonoma, only now knew that he had family outside of his dad and stepmom."

"Wow. Freaky."

"Freaky is what I said." Percy nods. "But whatever. He's still got friends over there, too. His dad runs this camp, Camp Jupiter, I think. Kind of a play off his name. I mean, what are the chances you're going to be named Zeus and get married to a woman named Hera? It's weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah. When Thalia told me that, I thought she was going to start laughing her ass off and yell, 'Surprise! Got you, dork!' because that's the kind of person she was. I swear, I laughed until I cried when she said her uncles' names were Hades and Poseidon. Is your family, like, obsessed with Greek mythology or something? Because even my _mom_ doesn't like Greek mythological names that much."

"You've met your mom?" Percy gapes. "I've never met my dad. Mom says he was 'very important' and blah, blah, blah, but I don't believe it. What kind of low-life scum leaves his pregnant girlfriend all alone?" Percy scowls. "Sometimes I just want to go find him and yell, 'Thanks a lot, Pops!'"

"Well, my mom was more of a one-night stand sort of thing, so I never really cared." Annabeth snorts. "She's just…. Smart, is all. She'd never had much alcohol before, just a little sip of wine at a party, you know? And her friend was celebrating something and invited her along, and it happened to be at a bar, and…. Well, one glass led to another."

"Yeah. Funny how that happens, isn't it?" Percy chuckles without humor.

"Mr. Jackson. What, may I ask, is so funny?" Mrs. Puckett inquires.

"Nothing, ma'am, just thinking."

"Well, try to think a bit quieter, won't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Percy replies sheepishly, picking at the back of his neck and flipping the page in his journal, starting a drawing.

"Hey, Preppy," Chase hisses a moment later. "What are you drawing?"

"Why don't you look and find out?" he retorts crossly, turning back to his sketch.

It's of an owl, done all in tawny browns and deep auburns It's gargantuan, taking up most of the page. Its large eyes are filled in with the grey of angry storm clouds. In its claws it holds a large blue-green trident. The owl has little ear-tufts, and in those ear tufts are multiple piercings and studs. It has a beak piercing and a black choker with silver studs, and anyone looking close enough would notice that within the pattern of the swirling brown feathers is a book, wreathed in flames, and staring at the trident long enough would allow you to see the pattern of crashing waves around a pen within the godly weapon.

"The symbols of Athena and Poseidon," Annabeth murmurs.

"Modified to fit us," Percy agrees. "I'm the Seaweed Brain and you're the Wise Girl. It's a symbol of peace. To show that we're not our parents. And that we chose what we do with our lives, flying away from the stereotypes and expectations that weigh us down."

Annabeth stares, hypnotized by the patterns that seem to move off the page, by the crashing waves within the trident to the outlines of books within the smallest owl feathers. "You know what, Jackson?" she whispers when she finally regains the ability to speak once more. "You're not a prep."

"I'm not?" the dorky boy asks, confused.

"No," she replies. "You're an artist. And a damn good one, too. I guess this makes us friends, huh?"

"Friends," Percy agrees.

Neither of them realizes yet them potential for them to become so much more.


End file.
